Like meeting a mirror in a darkened room.
Love divides him from himself. Split into two, he is aware of the contradiction but not confused by it. An equality of opposites seems to balance the room.
Look away and you are lost, he thinks. But he looks anyway, and where the door used to be there is only emptiness. In a frame. He tries mouthing his name in the air but his words make no impression. We are all anonymous inside our own heads.
If he looks back now there will be no escape. They will remain in hell together, lover and beloved, flesh and shade.
Who can tell the stone from its image? The Gorgon God from her statue?